


Blue

by Koyote19



Series: Visible Light [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Humor, Visible Light, abuse of mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2446016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koyote19/pseuds/Koyote19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doing laundry at 3 a.m. is not without risks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This is one of seven short humor fics based loosely around the visible light spectrum. They are in no particular order, and are not set at any particular time either pre-series or during the show. This one is Gen, though some of the others are Het.

Sam dragged the bag of hazardous waste containing all of Dean’s clothing and as much of his own as he could spare without getting arrested for public indecency, into the only 24-Hour Kwik Wash in Spring Creek. Fortunately, few people in the charming but quaint town felt the need to start a load of laundry at three in the morning, and he had the place mostly to himself.

Picking a machine as far from the sole other occupant of the laundromat as he could, he dug a handful of slimy quarters out of his pockets and started poking them into the slots with dogged determination. Only when the machine was filling with hot water—and why wasn’t there an option for boiling?—did he cautiously open the plastic bag of emergency supplies picked up at the Wal-mart next door, and fish out an impressive selection of detergent, bleach, and industrial strength borax.

Adding a generous portion of each to the washer, and wishing he had thought to grab holy water out of the trunk before they abandoned the car, he gingerly pulled clothing drenched in iridescent blue slime out of the trash bag and dumped the mess into the hot water. When the bag was empty, he tossed it into the nearest trash bin, then hesitated.

Risking a quick glance at the dark-haired woman calmly folding clothes across the room, her back thankfully to him, he hastily kicked off his boots and shimmied out of the damp jeans, adding them to the washer. Standing shivering in his boxers and stained t-shirt, he could feel his skin itching where the phosphorescent slime had soaked through his clothes. If he was uncomfortable, he couldn’t imagine what Dean was going through at the moment; considering that the only reason Sam had escaped relatively unscathed was that Dean had been in the way and taken the majority of the impact when the demon exploded.

Afterwards, Dean had refused to let either of them into the car, preferring to leave his baby on the side of the road and walk the five miles back to the small town where they’d stopped for gas and food earlier. The same town where they’d stumbled onto the stories about odd disappearances and weird lights in the nearby forest.

Sam couldn’t quite hide the smile at the memory of Dean, glowing softly from head to toe like the world’s tallest and most pissed off smurf, dripping blue goop as they trudged down the road. His normally stunted sense of self-preservation had fortunately kicked in before he could share this observation with his brother, which no doubt was the only reason he was still intact to do laundry. Unfortunately, they had been on a day trip to pick up supplies from Bobby, not a formal hunt, and neither had packed spare clothes. Every other article of clothing they owned was currently four hours and several hundred miles away in the hotel room where their father was waiting for them.

Sam, claiming to be the victim of pranksters with paintball guns, had gotten them a room and then left Dean in the shower frantically scrubbing slime out of his hair while he headed for the open all night laundromat the desk clerk had so helpfully pointed out.

Feeling disapproving eyes on him, he glanced up to see that the woman had turned around, and was now watching him in intent silence.

“Nice…uh…evening, isn’t it?” He shivered again in the cold air, glad that he’d opted at the last minute not to add his t-shirt to the load as well.

She didn’t answer, though he could see one dark brow arch as her eyes slipped down to the still faintly glowing blue stains on his shirt and cheek. The woman’s expression changed from surprise to curiosity, then to outright amusement as he felt himself turning bright red under her gaze.

To his shock, she moved silently across the Laundromat to where he stood, reaching out to open the washer before he could think to stop her. The water inside was a startling shade of neon blue, as was every single piece of clothing. This time, her expression was more like disgust.

“Paintball…” he started to explain, but cold white fingers touched his lips, silencing the rest of his words. Sam watched her mutely as she retrieved an unlabelled bottle from across the room, then came back to open his washer again. “What-?”

She frowned at him, then tugged the smeared shirt over his head before he could think to do more than protest. “Hey! Look lady-.”

Her glare stopped him cold, and he found himself unable to move as she dumped the shirt into the glowing water and then added something from the bottle that he could only pray was bleach. Trying to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that was yammering about women with very pale skin doing laundry in the middle of the night being a bad thing-- generally equated with a great deal of weeping, screaming and foretelling someone’s death-- he shivered in the cold air and sank down into the hard plastic chair behind him.

She patted him on the cheek with an amused smile, before returning to the other side of the room and her own waiting laundry. He was still staring at her when his washer finally ground to a stop. Numbly, he opened the lid and peered cautiously inside. The neon blue glow was gone, and he stared in disbelief at the damp, completely normal looking clothing.

Sam shivered in the cold air, and for just a brief moment, entertained the idea of just abandoning the washer and buying more clothes instead. But considering his luck so far that evening, walking into Wal-Mart in nothing but his boxers would get him arrested long before he’d reach the clothing section. Not to mention, the hotel room and laundry supplies had used up the majority of their money. He doubted he’d be able to buy much in the way of clothing for even one of them, with a handful of quarters stuck together with glowing blue demon snot.

Stifling a resigned sigh, he gritted his teeth and started stuffing the wet clothes into the nearest dryer. When he finally risked a last glance back across the Laundromat, the woman and her neatly folded laundry had vanished without a trace.

His only consolation was that, even if his guess was right… she hadn’t seemed threatening; hadn’t screamed, or wept or done anything else the legends mentioned. Other than done their laundry, of course. And really… what were the odds of running into a banshee in an all night laundromat, in the same town as a slime demon? Even for a Winchester?


End file.
